


Of Subtle Lightning

by PlumBat



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Checking in, Chest Binding, Coming Out, Communication, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Trans, Trans Male Character, binding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 00:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9942137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumBat/pseuds/PlumBat
Summary: Krem and Dorian get to talking at the inn at Skyhold and learn about some of the things they share in common, as well as some of the things that make them different.I wrote this a couple of years ago, when I was really into DA:I, with the intention of making it quite a bit longer. I rediscovered it just now and, to my surprise, I'm pretty darn happy with it. There's more in my head, I may or may not write it out.





	

It was well after dark and the tavern was bustling. The bard who plied her trade by day had turned in for the evening. Loud conversation and the thunking sound of mugs on tables took her place. Soldiers, apostates, and camp followers of all types gathered in ways that would never have happened under other circumstances, commiserating and arguing over the strange events unfolding around them. In the distance could be heard the faint beating of drums from outside the Keep’s walls, where the Dalish volunteers gathered to tell stories and dance.

At the far corner of the bar, a tan-complexioned man in fine, foreign clothes sat alone, nursing a glass of pale red wine. He stared at the counter in front of him, his chin propped up on his hand. As he tipped the last of his drink down his throat, a young man in armor sat down next to him.

"What are you having?", the newcomer asked.

Dorian glanced at him. A soldier-type, one of the many who filled this place. Human. Vaguely familiar, but after so many long weeks in this place, who wasn't?

"I'm not really looking for company," he said, not bothering to conceal the edge in his voice.

"If you say so," the man replied in Tevene.

At this, Dorian lifted his head from his hand and looked at his new companion squarely for the first time. Despite the hour and their lack of orders, he was outfitted as if they might be going into battle at any moment, yet he seemed at ease. His face was smooth and well-proportioned. Of all the things, Dorian found himself wondering who cut his hair, as it had obviously received careful attention recently. Finally, he replied in the same tongue. "Well. It's been some time since I've run into one of our countrymen who wasn't trying to kill me."

"Isn't that the truth," the young man said. "Let me get the next round. You look like you've earned it."

Dorian made a motion somewhere between a nod and a shrug. "More wine, then. Or something stronger."

"Hey, Cabot, two Minrathi Blacks," the other man called out, reverting to the common tongue. Despite the din, the bartender noticed him, and began fetching the drinks.

Dorian raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't have thought they'd have Black here,” he commented in Tevene.

The man smiled. "I saw Morris bring it by last week. I imagine it was a gift from some noble. And," he leaned in conspiratorially, as if their shared tongue weren't enough to keep their words private, "this asshole doesn't have a clue that it goes for twenty times what he's charging!"

Dorian surprised himself with a huff of laughter that turned into a small smile. The other man grinned even wider.

Dorian shook his head. The smile was gone from his face, but so was a great deal of the tension that had been evident in his shoulders. "You're one of Bull's men, aren't you?" he asked.

"That's right. The name's Krem." Krem stuck out his hand and Dorian shook it.

"A pleasure to meet you. Dorian of House Pavus." The drinks arrived in two small wooden cups. Dorian lifted his in a miniature salute, and then downed it in one go. "Mm. Lovely. Thank you for that. And... please do forgive me if I'm not at my best at the moment."

Krem finished his own drink, licking a stray drop from his lower lip. "Don’t worry about it. There are a thousand reasons to be messed up these days. I’ll leave you alone if you want. I just wanted to say hello.”

"No, it’s fine. Stay, please. Anyway, it’s my turn," Dorian said. He turned to the bar, managed to get Cabot’s attention after a minute or so, pointed at their cups, and held up two fingers. When the ink-colored drinks arrived, he sipped his slower this time. Krem matched his pace.

"I had been thinking of Adamant," Dorian confessed.

Krem nodded, his face taking on a grimmer cast. "The Chargers were there. It was a mess. But not like it was for you and the boss. You both went into the Fade with the Inquisitor, so I hear."

"We did, yes."

"He won't talk about it. It seems like it shook him up pretty bad. And he doesn't shake easy. Me and the others, we've been a little worried."

"Well, if you're looking for insight, I'm afraid I don't wish to speak of it either. All I'll say is that it was a nightmare. Quite literally." Dorian sighed. "Bull will be fine in time, I'm sure. It... makes a bit more sense now that you wanted to talk to me. I'll admit, I wondered. There isn't usually much cheerful camaraderie between your people and mine."

Krem shrugged and grimaced slightly. "Can't say I was the biggest Altus fan, yeah. Never had any illusions that I'd have a kid who might end up Laetans, that's for sure. But we're all on the same side now, eh? And I figure anyone who leaves that life to be true to himself can't be that bad."

"Ah, so you... heard about that? I didn't know it'd gotten around."

"Not much to do here when there's no fighting except drink and gossip. Skyhold's a hard place to keep a secret. Anyway, it doesn't bother me. I don't discriminate when it comes to who I share my bedroll with, myself. Well, not on that basis anyway."

"I see," Dorian said. "You and Bull must get on well, then."

Krem snorted. "Not like that. He's a good man, but not my type." He waved at Cabot and gestured at their once-more empty cups.

"Indeed?" Dorian said, his voice taking on a richer tone. "And what is your type?"

Krem seemed to consider the question, looking away as if picturing someone. Then he turned back to Dorian and held his gaze. "Dark, beautiful, well-dressed, and dangerous."

The smile returned to Dorian’s face, and this time it stayed.

*

Shortly after midnight, the mage and the fighter made their way across the grounds of the Keep together. They leaned on each other, laughing and whispering loudly in their native tongue. They drew many gazes and noticed none of them.

After making their way unsteadily up a flight of stone stairs, they reached a plain wooden door. Dorian unlocked it, reached just inside, and grabbed his staff from where it was leaning against the wall next to the entrance. After taking a long moment to aim, he shot a small burst of flame at the fireplace, igniting the logs there.

"Nice," Krem said. The two men stepped inside. While Dorian shut the door and replaced his staff, Krem took a look around. The room was small but neat, with the far wall taken up by a very large bookcase. It wasn't much, but it was opulent compared to his own tent just outside the Keep's walls.

He began unbuckling his armor. Dorian tried to help, but mostly ended up just fumbling. After a minute, the mage gave up and focused on taking off his own boots. In the meantime, Krem managed to strip off all of the plate, chain, and leather and pile it in a corner, leaving his tunic and leggings.

He looked up to see that Dorian was now barefoot. A few of the straps of his upper garment -- Krem had noted with amusement earlier in the night that it seemed to be made entirely of straps -- were undone, but he was mostly still clothed. He took a step towards Krem, but then stopped short, looking unsure of himself. Krem closed the last of the distance between them and placed his hands on the other man's shoulders. They spent a long moment just looking at each other, eyes meeting eyes. The room seemed to grow closer, the air heavier and warmer. And then they were kissing. Neither could have said whose lips touched whose first, it seemed to just happen.

Dorian moaned into his companion's mouth and Krem clutched him tighter as their tongues entwined. After a period of time that neither of them could have guessed at the length of, they separated just enough to breathe. Dorian tugged the shorter man towards the bed. Krem sprawled out on the thin mattress, and Dorian collapsed beside him, grabbing hold of him and kissing him hard. Krem entwined one hand in his hair and tugged, and Dorian gasped at the sensation, his hips moving of their own volition.

Dorian rolled, and then he was on top of the smaller man, grinding down against him, shuddering at the pleasure as his hard cock pressed against Krem's body though their clothing. He leaned in and sealed his mouth against the other man’s again. With one hand, he propped himself up, and with the other he pulled up Krem's shirt. His fingers encountered another layer of cloth, and he tugged on it too but it didn’t move. He broke the kiss to look and caught a glimpse of bandages.

"Oh! You’re hurt?” Dorian shifted to the side, reclining alongside Krem, caressing his firm stomach as he moved. "You should’ve told me. I would have been more careful."

"I'm not -- shit." Krem said. He was breathing heavily. With a pang of anxiety, Dorian realized that he couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or distress.

“Is it bad? I'm so sorry."

"No. ...no." Krem said. "I can't believe I didn't…” He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I should have said something earlier." He closed his eyes, brow furrowed. He didn’t speak, and Dorian didn’t break the silence. After a minute, Krem muttered "I don't want to talk about this while you're drunk."

"We're both drunk," Dorian replied, frowning. Krem didn't respond.

After a long pause, Dorian stood up, and immediately tripped over his boots. He caught himself and managed not to fall on his face. More carefully, he picked his way over to the wall and retrieved his staff.

Krem turned in time to see him raise it. His eyes widened and his mouth opened, but before he could say anything, a burst of green light filled the air and then vanished. Krem blinked rapidly.

"What... what the *fuck* did you just do?"

"Dispel,” Dorian said, setting his staff back down. His voice was sharper and clearer. “Alcohol is a form of poison, and I removed its effects on us. I probably should have said something before casting, I didn’t mean to startle you."

"Yeah, no more spells without warning." Krem murmured. He sat up on the bed, legs folded underneath him. His eyes were bright and narrowed.

Dorian moved towards the bed hesitantly. When Krem made no move to stop him, he sat down on the edge of the bed, as if he were a guest in his own room.

"No more, I promise. Now, will you tell me what's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Krem sighed. "Come here," he said.

Dorian obeyed, scooting closer until their thighs were pressed together.

Krem looked as if he were on the edge of speaking, but instead he leaned in and gently captured Dorian's lips with his own. This time it felt different, soft and deliberate. Dorian deepened the kiss, cupping Krem's cheek in his hand. After a time, they broke apart.

"You're gorgeous," Dorian said. Krem screwed up his mouth in a half smile. "You are,” Dorian continued. “You have the most entrancing eyes."

Krem chuckled and glanced away. He shifted in place, then looked back at Dorian. Then he stilled, letting himself be caught in the larger man’s steady gaze. "So do you," he said quietly. "This can be so easy sometimes, and then other times..."

Dorian waited quietly, not moving. Krem turned away once more, staring off at nothing in particular.

"I'm. Not built like you," Krem said, frowning, still looking forward. "If I wasn't what you... expected... would it matter to you?"

Dorian immediately thought of Cole, though the image slipped from his mind almost as soon as it entered, leaving just a profound impression of difference. "You could hardly be stranger than some of the individuals I've encountered here," he said.

Krem sighed and closed his eyes. His hand found Dorian’s and gripped it. He spoke in a soft, even voice. "I have a female body. I always have. I lived as a woman until I was 16.There's no injury under those bindings. I wear them because I look wrong without them. Do you understand?"

"You have...? Ohh. I see." Dorian gave Krem's hand a squeeze in return, and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Yes, I believe I understand. I have a friend, a Magister actually, with the same condition but, er, reversed."

Krem looked at Dorian, eyebrows raised. "You do? A _magister_?"

"Yes, and no one says a word about it, she's that powerful. It doesn't hurt that she's remarkably skilled at making people like her. She's one of the most extraordinary women I've ever met, next to the Inquisitor and the Nightingale."

 

*

 

[Author's note: I know that how Krem talks about his body is not how a lot of modern-day trans people might choose to talk about their bodies, but it's what made sense to me for Krem to say from what we know of this setting.]


End file.
